


Finally, Something We Can Agree On

by gayageddon



Category: Z Nation (TV)
Genre: 10k gets under Murphy's skin, 10k is still a virgin, Forgive Me, I'm a terrible person, M/M, Murphy is still an asshole, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, age gap, and Murphy LIKES it okay, but I couldn't resist after watching The Collector and the Rozwell episode, half of this is like train of thought, i'm working my way up to bigger and better things, not a lot though sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:25:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7515082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayageddon/pseuds/gayageddon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sure, he’d been afraid in the moment, helpless as he was. But now…things felt different. So, he kept replaying it over and over again, a hazy technicolor dream that started to feel less like an impersonal examination of a dangerous situation and more like an indulgence.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>10k isn't afraid of Murphy, but he can't stop thinking about what happened.</p><p>Set after The Collector, episode 2x08</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finally, Something We Can Agree On

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first smut fic...and my first fic in this fandom. Please go easy on me lol. Feel free to point out any mistakes, since this isn't beta read and enjoy. <3

“Don’t make me bite you,” Murphy said, mere _days_ after their run-in with The Collector, outright growling at 10k when he refused to shut up. It sent shivers down his spine, which was usually cooperative, but had been acting up ever since…ugh. It wasn’t that 10k _wanted_ to provoke Murphy into doing something violent and teeth-related…but ever since he’d gotten out of that museum without a single scratch (without any Murphy-inflicted damage at all) he’d been on edge. So, he kept turning it over in his head, replaying it like some sort of drug-induced hallucination or a memory to which he couldn’t quite remember the details. It was taking up all the space in his head, crushing his other, way more important thoughts against the inside of his skull and out of his ears, forgotten.  
  
It was especially difficult when Murphy was making _jokes_ about it, so casual that it made 10k itchy all over. Even more frustrating was the perpetual smirk Addy was wearing, like she knew something had happened and it was somehow humorous. Doc, on the other hand, just looked sort of confused, or like he was thinking really hard about something.  
  
10k had been doing a lot of thinking as well, but it wasn’t doing him any good. Because when he thought back to The Incident-capital letters and all-he couldn’t make himself scared. Even when he would catch Murphy staring him down like he was reconsidering the whole biting thing, 10k didn’t feel a single ounce of fear in his body. Sure, he’d been afraid in the moment, helpless as he was. But now…things felt different. So, he kept replaying it over and over again, a hazy technicolor dream that started to feel less like an impersonal examination of a dangerous situation and more like an _indulgence _.__  
  
He kept thinking about it on the drive to Roswell and realized one morning that he’d dug up a weird, unidentifiable feeling. 10k didn’t like the looks of it, _definitely_ didn’t want to put a name to it, but it nagged at him. He wasn’t sure what it meant that he wasn’t afraid of Murphy, or the Incident, or why he didn’t want to talk about it (because for _some_ reason, it made him feel sort of embarrassed).  
  
So, rather than leave it be, 10k poked at it. Constantly. He still killed zombies like a badass, did what he was supposed to without getting lost in his thoughts, but his downtime was _consumed_ with thinking. He couldn’t leave it alone, couldn’t leave _Murphy_ alone.  
  
On the entire road to Roswell-and it was definitely a good, long drive-he kept egging Murphy on, reveling in the reactions he got: annoyance, sarcasm, wry amusement, _more sarcasm_ ; but nothing verging on real anger. He loved it, loved getting under Murphy’s skin and smirking into the glare he got in return for his troubles, loved it even when Warren rolled her eyes and started to look a lot like a harried school teacher driving a van full of kindergartners on the world’s longest, most dangerous field trip ever.  
  
Which is why, when 10k got saddled with babysitting Murphy while the others raided a desolate and altogether depressing strip mall, he didn’t even put up a token fight. He felt almost giddy, finally getting to bug the shit out of Murphy _alone_. 10k was a little worried about why he was deriving so much pleasure from bothering Murphy…but not enough to actually stop doing it.  
  
No sooner did everyone abandon them to their chosen rendezvous point-a dusty little diner with sticky floors and grime-streaked windows-did 10k start honing his (practically perfect) skills.  
  
He hopped up on one of the least offensive tables with the pretense of cleaning his gun, humming something upbeat and happy as a surefire way to get a rise out of Murphy. The man (or whatever) in question was slunk down in a booth looking simultaneously mad at the world and bored out of his mind. His eyes cut over to 10k after only a few seconds of humming and then he sighed heavily through his nose. But instead of snapping out some witty one-liner or clever insult, Murphy only drummed his fingers against the tabletop and went back to staring out of the cloudy window.  
  
Well, that just wouldn’t do. Without looking up, 10k asked, “So, why were you in prison anyways?”  
  
Murphy’s hand stilled. 10k prattled on, “I bet it was something embarrassing.” He glanced up briefly from the gun he was pretending to pay any sort of attention to and caught Murphy’s eye. The look he was giving him was…different. 10k made himself look back down at his weapon, but he couldn’t keep the smirk off his face when he asked, “Were you somebody’s prison wife? Because that would explain the whole wardrobe thing you’ve got going on, just saying. And you are kind of a diva, so-”  
  
_Woah_ , okay, and apparently Murphy was standing in front of him, that was…also different. They hadn’t been that close since The Incident. 10k’s heartbeat ratcheted up a few notches just to have him in his personal space, which was weird, because he knew he wasn’t scared…Murphy sidled closer, standing between 10k’s legs, and placed his hands ( _big hands_ , 10k noted) on his thighs.  
  
“And why would you ask that, hm?” Murphy breathed in a voice that was intent and _completely different_ …not angry or annoyed, but kind of almost- “Are you _curious_?”  
  
He was so close now, close enough that 10k could feel the heat from his body and it sent a thrill through him. _What is wrong with me??_ Then Murphy’s hands started sliding dangerously high up 10k’s thighs and he started to think, _wait, what exactly is happening here?_ But he still wasn’t afraid.  
  
His heart was hammering incessantly away, his breath was coming out all shallow and weird, his pants felt too tight, and Murphy was trailing his tongue over 10k’s throat.  
  
“What-?” He began, but cut himself off when Murphy’s _stupidly big hands_ came up to frame the line of his dick through his jeans. 10k’s breath hitched when he felt the scrape of stubble against the underside of his jaw, and he subconsciously spread his legs wider for Murphy to press closer.  
  
He nipped at 10k’s jugular and said “Good boy,” in a growl that made his blood run hot. And then, Murphy ran his thumbs up where 10k’s cock was hard and throbbing behind his zipper, and a desperate whine got torn from his throat. He tilted his head back and thought, _Oh god, I know what this is. I may be a virgin, but there’s no denying that this is_ -  
  
“Murphy!” The roof caving in over their heads. 100 guns going off all at once. A horde of zombies pressing against the glass. Any of those things would have been preferable to Doc standing in the doorway with his jaw dropped. “What the hell, man?!”  
  
Murphy, for once in his life, did not even attempt to explain his way out of this one. He just pulled back, offered 10k a smugly raised eyebrow, and brushed past Doc with a pointed, “Well, what did it _look_ like?”  
  
And so, 10k was left with a raging hard-on and Doc’s bewildered, concerned questions that he had no clue how to answer. Well, at least now he had something else to think about.

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> I may be going to hell, but you read this so I'll see you there.


End file.
